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FAIRY  DAYS 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF 

ELIZABETH   TINGLE   FAIRBANKS 

O 

Her  form  y  a  frail  and  lovely  April  flower. 

The  gift  of  April  when  her  smiles  prevailed ; 
For  Bettfs  radiant  sunshine  never  failed 

To  banish  tears, — to  cheer  the  saddest  hour, 

T ho*  flower 'like  her  sunlit  hair  and  face. 
Her  spirit  was  a  flame  of  rarest  power,- 
And  now  we  know  it  was  no  earthly  flower 

That  April  lent  us  for  a  little  space ! 

Her  mind,  like  flashes  from  the  April  skies 

Was  clear  and  keen,  and  filled  us  with  am  axe  ! 
A  little  April  flower  with  numbered  days. 

But  oh,  the  wisdom  in  those  serious  eyes  ! 

And  her  sweet  spirit  smiles  on  us  today. 
And  fain  would  wipe  our  tears  of  grief  away. 


FAIRY  DAYS 

BY 

WILLIAM   MAKEPEACE 
THACKERAY 


NEW  YORK 

PRIVATELY  PRINTED 

CHRISTMAS,  1919 


Beside  the  old  hall-fire — 

upon  my  nurse's  knee. 
Of  happy  fairy  days — 

what  tales  were  told  to  me! 
I  thought  the  world  was  once — 

all  peopled  with  princesses, 
And  my  heart  would  beat  to  hear — 

their  loves  and  their  distresses; 
And  many  a  quiet  night, — 

in  slumber  sweet  and  deep, 
The  pretty  fairy  people — 

would  visit  me  in  sleep. 


I  saw  them  in  my  dreams — 

come  flying  east  and  west. 
With  wondrous  fairy  gifts — 

the  new-born  babe  they  bless'd; 
One  has  brought  a  jewel — 

and  one  a  crown  of  gold. 
And  one  has  brought  a  curse — 

but  she  is  wrinkled  and  old. 
The  gentle  queen  turns  pale — 

to  hear  those  words  of  sin. 
But  the  king  he  only  laughs — 

and  bids  the  dance  begin. 


The  babe  has  grown  to  be — 

the  fairest  in  the  land. 
And  rides  the  forest  green — 

a  hawk  upon  her  hand. 
An  ambling  palfrey  white — 

a  golden  robe  and  crown : 
I've  seen  her  in  my  dreams — 

riding  up  and  down: 
And  heard  the  ogre  laugh — 

as  she  fell  into  his  snare, 
At  the  little  tender  creature — 

who  wept  and  tore  her  hair! 


But  ever  when  it  seemed — 

her  need  was  at  the  sorest, 
A  prince  in  shining  mail; — 

comes  prancing  through  the  forest, 
A  waving  ostrich-plume — 

a  buckler  burnished  bright; 
I've  seen  him  in  my  dreams — 

good  sooth!  a  gallant  knight. 
His  lips  are  coral  red — 

beneath  a  dark  moustache; 
See  how  he  waves  his  hand — 

and  how  his  blue  eyes  flash ! 


"Come  forth,  thou  Paynim  knight  T' — 

he  shouts  in  accents  clear. 
The  giant  and  the  maid — 

both  tremble  his  voice  to  hear. 
Saint  Mary  guard  him  well! — 

he  draws  his  falchion  keen. 
The  giant  and  the  knight — 

are  fighting  on  the  green. 
I  see  them  in  my  dreams — 

his  blade  gives  stroke  on  stroke. 
The  giant  pants  and  reels — 

and  tumbles  like  an  oak! 


With  what  a  blushing  grace — 

he  falls  upon  his  knee 
And  takes  the  lady's  hand — 

and  whispers,  *'You  are  free!" 
Ah !  happy  childish  tales — 

of  knight  and  faerie ! 
/  waken  from  my  dreams — 

but  there' s  ne' er  a  knight  for  me! 
I  waken  from  my  dreams — 

and  wish  that  I  could  be 
A  child  by  the  old  hall-fire — 

upon  my  nurse  s  knee! 


OF  THIS  BOOK  TWO  HUNDRED  COPIES  WERE  PRINTED  FOR 

THOMAS  NAST  FAIRBANKS,  BY  WILLIAM  EDWIN  RUDGE, 

IN  DECEMBER,    I9I9. 


